


Pharaoh

by LadyAlor (deanneelackles)



Category: Cardcaptor Sakura
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ancient Egypt, F/M, Fantasy, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-05 01:17:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13377051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanneelackles/pseuds/LadyAlor
Summary: Sakura of Anatolia is sent as payment to Egypt to become a mistress of the arrogant Pharaoh, Syaoran. She soon discovers that he has more to him than good looks and pride, and he sees that she is not meant to just be a mistress, though he should be wooing Lady Tomoyo. But when people start dying in the palace, Sakura and Syaoran find their fates are truly entwined.





	1. Chapter 1

With every step Sakura took, something jingled somewhere on her body. Every appendage was adorned with some kind ceremonial band, and unfortunately a lot of those meant bells, ready to jingle as soon as a muscle twitched. It was times like these that made her realize how different Egypt was from Anatolia, despite living relatively close together. What were all these bells for? If they were to give her a headache, they were doing their job wondrously.

Sakura turned when she heard the door to her room opened slowly, tentatively. It was her father, Fujitaka, standing stiffly with brows knit and eyes uncertain. Sakura swallowed slowly, and then bowed in an attempt to break the tension. He held up a hand to stop her. "Please, no more," he pleaded, and her chest tightened. But he continued, "I don't want to hear only the sound of bells for the rest of my life." A smile broke out on her face; so he'd only been joking.

"How do I look?" she asked, bracing herself to spin and then thinking better of it.

"Like…" He shifted his weight, clearly entirely unsure of how to describe her outfit. Finally he raised his hands, palms up, as if to say 'I don't know!' "Like a Hittite going to Egypt."

Her smile fell a little, and she had to work to keep up what was left of it. "Well then," she said, a bit coldly though it was unintentional, "I suppose I fit the part perfectly, then."

Fujitaka didn't say anything. What he was doing was not uncommon, Sakura knew, especially not in these times; men selling their daughters to be the concubines of the Hittite king to settle a debt was becoming increasingly common, in fact. Sakura was being sent to do the same—however, she was being sent to Egypt, to be the Pharaoh's concubine. And being sent so far away meant there was precious little chance of her returning here, ever. But such was the fate of the daughter of a man who gambled too much with the Egyptian officials when they came to town.

She fingered a bell on her wrist, and heard her father mumble something apologetically. At least the other girl's fathers might have had good reasons for being sent away, like the land was too harsh on their crop or his sick wife's weekly medicine costs more than they make in three months.

Knocking from the other room caught both of their attentions, and Sakura's stomach began forming into a stone, slowly at first and then rapidly, until she was surprised it wasn't weighing her down completely. She wiped her suddenly sweaty palms on her flowing skirts but the moisture was replenished as soon as her fingers left the Egyptian cloth.

Somewhere along the trek from one room to another, Fujitaka had linked his arm in hers, standing tall and proud. Another pound at the door, and he glanced over at Sakura to make sure her hair was neat, her make up perfect, before opening the door to reveal two expressionless Egyptian guards standing on the step outside.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," he greeted in a strained voice.

The two men bowed their heads sharply and then looked over at Sakura, inspected her outfit and nodded as if to say the specific guidelines they'd been told to follow in preparing her had just made satisfactory. Then one of them held his hand out to her. "It's time to go now."

She swallowed again, and her eyes flicked back to her father. His gaze held hers for a moment, and then he had to look away, pretending it was because he was getting her bag for her. Her heart sank as she gripped the bag, and she didn't look at him as she said, "Goodbye, Father." The Egyptian man held her hand daintily and led her to the uncovered wooden vehicle outside her home, helped her climb in before jumping up after her. She settled in, training her eyes forward and willing them not to shed tears, not in front of these Egyptian men. Already the sun felt too hot as the horses started forward, kicking up dust.

Quite a few days later, Sakura's stomach flipped instinctively, and when she looked up, she could see the buildings up ahead; they were finally reaching Cairo. She dabbed some sweat off of her forehead and her thoughts again returned to the question of why she had needed to be dressed up as an Egyptian when she left her house, when she would only be bathing and changing along the way? Anyhow, she bore those garments again now, though she had been told the bells were no longer necessary, and sat up a little straighter as the wheels rolled into the city.

The carriage she rode in screamed 'royal business'; the quality of the wood, the horses, the people riding inside. Sakura was not spared crowds of people gathering around to gape open-mouthed at her as she passed through.

"We're almost there, Miss Sakura," the Egyptian man who'd been driving the whole time—whose name, she'd learned, was Sano—assured her. She just nodded in response, biting the inside of her cheek.

The streets of Cairo bustled with people, much like the streets of Hattusa had, and Sakura found that it helped to unclench her stomach a bit. Maybe some things wouldn't be so different here as she'd imagined.

The cart turned a corner, and her gaze fell on the palace. There was a large courtyard surrounding the big building, and she wondered where on the grounds the Pharaoh's concubines stayed.

'Concubine.' Sakura's tongue became dry as the word played over and over in her head, each time with a heavier meaning than before. It was really hitting her that she was coming to this foreign land to be the foreign Pharaoh's concubine. Her place here was to compete for the ruler's attention and hope that he picked her to sleep with. She put her face in her hand, suddenly feeling exhausted. There was nothing she could do about it now. Her father had sealed her fate, now she had to accept it.

The horses drew into the courtyard and went on a course that took them to the west side of the palace, to the back where no one on the street would be able to peek in. The cart stopped and Sano hopped out. When he held out his hand for her, Sakura took it and he helped her down, as had become a custom for them over the past many days of travel. The other man who had come to fetch her in Hattusa had been riding on horseback due to lack of room in the carriage, and they heard his horse's hooves come to a stop behind them, and he swung to the ground. Sano instructed him to grab Sakura's little bag, and then led them into the palace.

Her knees were quivering severely with every step but she still kept on. Sano took her through many beautiful hallways, and she marvelled at how it appeared to shine despite being simply brick.

Her driver stopped after what had felt like a lifetime for Sakura, deep in the palace, in front of an elaborate door. "These will be your quarters now, Miss Sakura," he informed her, giving her a last glance before opening the door and bowing. After a moment she clued in that he was bowing to her and she should go in before him. Inside was a long hallway with many smaller doors lining the walls. Sano followed her in and then walked past her, leading her again down the hall until he stopped in front of one of the doors and opened that one as well. "This is your chamber." He gave her a reassuring smile. "Fortunately for you, the Pharaoh doesn't have too many concubines currently. You get a room all to yourself."

This didn't quite make her feel better. "Thank you," she managed.

He nodded. "It's been a pleasure riding with you, Miss Sakura. Perhaps I'll see you around the castle sometime."

Sakura's lips parted. "Wait, that's it? You're just leaving me here?"

Sano looked surprised. "Well…I mean, yes. There's not much to it. One of the other concubines will show you the ropes, that's usually how it goes."

Sakura blinked. She felt uncomfortably warm, and a little silly. "Oh. Of course." She tucked her hair behind her ears. "Oh…thank you," she repeated. "You…you made my journey comfortable." Oh, god. That was the best she could come up with? She should really be far more grateful than that; she'd heard that Egyptian officials could get meaner than Hittite officials, who could get pretty nasty at times. But her head was spinning and she couldn't think of much of anything.

Still, Sano smiled, and bowed his head briefly before exiting the chamber.

Sakura spun around to take in her new room. A fairly nice bed, for obvious reasons, and a patterned rug covering a good portion of the cold stone floor. A dresser stood in the corner, and beside it a wooden table and chair. She was pleased to see that there was a small window on the far wall, and walked over to it, crossing her arms in the sill and leaning into it. Within the walls of the castle, there was a small open garden courtyard with a fountain where a few women—who she guessed were her fellow concubines—sat or stood, talking and smiling. A pathway lined the little pocket of garden, and two women strolling down it spotted Sakura in the window. One of them smiled and made her way over.

"You must be the new Hittite," she said. Sakura was unsure of whether she should be offended at her words, but decided against it because her tone was good-natured.

"Ah, yes. My name is Sakura," she introduced, offering a little smile.

"I'm Rika," the woman replied, still smiling, and held out her slender hand for Sakura to shake.

"You're a concubine too?" Sakura asked, taking in her beautiful clothes and elegant posture, her well done pale hair.

Rika nodded. "I am. For many years now."

This gave Sakura some hope; Rika seemed pretty well off.

"Rika, can I ask you a question?" Sakura leaned a little further through the window opening. Rika nodded her head. "What exactly am I supposed to do now that I'm here?"

Rika chuckled. "Nothing, really." She gave an elegant shrug. "Just try and fall into regular life here. Baths, breakfast, lunch, dinner, sleep, and so on, with walks in between." She laughed, like she'd made a joke but Sakura was unsure of the punchline. "The Pharaoh will be informed that you're here, and it's up to him whether or not he visits you tonight or any other night. But," she added in a giggling whisper, "perhaps he'll find you quite interesting as you're a Hittite. We don't have too many of those here."

"Ah…yes," Sakura replied with a forced little smile. "Of course."

The other woman with Rika whispered something to her.

"In fact, dinner is soon. We all eat together. Join us!" she invited happily.

Sakura felt tired but didn't want to be rude. She smiled and accepted.


	2. Chapter 2

Rika had let Sakura know where the dining room was and left her the remaining half hour until dinner to herself. Sakura just sat down on her bed, which was surprisingly comfortable, and looked around, studying it all again. Trying to make it seem more like . . . home. Was that it was? Was that what it would become, at least, eventually? She clenched her hands into fists, gathering a handful of the bed coverings in her fingers, and then loosed them and stood. She couldn’t sit around brooding. It would only make her crazy. 

She walked over to her luggage, her small bags of things that contained the remains of her old life within them. It didn’t take long to find what she was looking for; a cloak, that had belonged to her mother she died. Before Fujitaka had taken to gambling and spending and various other bad habits. The cloak was beautiful; a deep red satin with light swirling detailing all across it, and small jewels, real ones, embedded around the hood, flashy while still being tasteful. The clasp was gold, shaped as several intertwining circles that when shut together appeared seamless. 

This cloak was one of Sakura’s most prized possessions; it reminded her not only of her mother, who she missed dearly, but of the better days, when Sakura was a Lady, respected and wealthy, a Lady who would have laughed at someone who told her that she would one day end up getting dumped in Egypt as a royal concubine. She had hidden it successfully from her father for all those years, knowing he’d wish to sell the jewels and the clasp, and took it out in the dead of night occasionally, to gaze at it in the moonlight.   
Now Sakura stood and tossed it around her shoulders, locking the clasp and raising the hood. She needed to go out and walk around a bit, and this cloak would help to ease her nerves and remind her that she was worth something, she was sure of it. 

Carefully, she stepped out of her room, looked around, and picked a random path to take for her stroll. She walked with her head and her back straight, ready to face the world.   
The fresh air cleared her mind. The sun was just beginning to set, cooling the world around her, making it seem less gleaming and glaring, more real. 

This was real. 

She was really here. 

It was a beautiful palace, really. Elegantly constructed buildings, pillars, fountains, pools, everything. Nothing Sakura set her eyes on displeased her, which ended up displeasing her in principle. She had been set on hating it here. But maybe it was for the best that she enjoyed her surroundings. Hugging her cloak more closely around her, she started toward one of the fountains, its water calm and cool and for some reason enticing to Sakura. As she descended the steps from the walkway to the fountain area, a man emerged suddenly from behind a pillar, meaning to go in the opposite direction. Sakura startled and slipped, losing her footing, tumbling right into the man. Her face smacked painfully into his chest and all his jewellery, and she inevitably found herself clinging to him, hoping to regain her balance. 

Finally she did, they both did, at the bottom of the steps next to the fountain, and she leapt away from at the same time he pushed her. But her cloak was tangled in his necklaces, sending them off their feet again. He jerked back and knocked his knees against the fountain, toppling headfirst into the water, and dragging Sakura with him, her knees scraping the stone as she plunged in. 

It had all happened so quickly, Sakura wasn’t sure which way was up or down. She was soon forced to realize when the man shot up and then dragged her to the surface as well. She opened her mouth to apologize when the man spoke. 

“You absolute fool! What the hell are you doing?! Look at me, I’m soaked!” he shouted, grabbing at the tangle of cloak and necklace. 

Sakura’s face set in a frown, apologies forgotten. She tried to bat his hands away from her cloak. “Stop that, you’ll rip it! Oh, I’m sure it’s already ruined now, look what you’ve done!” 

He stopped for a moment, apparently stunned. “What I’ve done? How dare you blame this on me, you arrogant simpleton!” 

Sakura snorted. “Why don’t you get off your high horse and use your brain! Tugging and yanking doesn’t untie a knot!” She set her fingers at untangling them properly. 

He grabbed her hands, and for the first time she actually looked at him, feeling a buzz where their skin met. His hair, sopping wet, was a dark brown that was probably a lighter colour when dry; but now it hung near his amber eyes, dripping water down his tanned cheeks, past his firm and stubbornly set mouth. Sakura had no qualms admitting he was beautiful, but she also had no time to deal with this, and looked down again, trying to tug her hands free. 

“Unhand me,” she huffed. The stories she’d heard about Egyptian men were undoubtedly true. Brutes, she concluded. They must be if they were all like this one.

“Unhand you?” he repeated disbelievingly, and his grip tightened. “Let go of my jewellery.” 

She glared back up at him. “I will when it lets go of my cloak.”

He grunted. “To hell with your damn—“ He tossed her hands aside and gripped the fabric, tearing the cloak. Sakura’s mouth fell open. His necklaces untangled, the piece of torn satin caught up in them falling free into the pool. She stared at the roughly ripped edges of her mother’s cloak, and then looked up at the man, who was frowning at her.   
He pointed at the torn fabric. “Consider this next time you go tripping about the palace.” The water sloshed around as he shot to his feet and stepped out of the fountain. He glanced back for a split second, like it was a reflex to offer his hand out to her, but his jaw set and he turned away from her, leaving her on her knees in the water, shrouded by the ruined cloth. 

Sakura’s mouth still hung open, and she felt tears choking her and blurring her vision. She fished for the torn piece and clutched it in her fingers, hoisting herself out of the fountain and rushing back to her room. 

When the door shut behind her, the tears spilled out freely, though silently, and she hung the larger part of the cloak up to dry. She changed into an old Hittite dress. “Cursed Egyptian gown,” she growled, tossing the sopping mess aside. She tried her best to arrange her hair nicely though it was still drying, and then stared at the ripped piece of satin from her mother’s cloak. What should she do with it? She shook her head and decided to tie it around her wrist for the time being. 

Finally, she felt prepared again to go to dinner, and set off to it, hoping she wouldn’t be late. Fortunately she found it without any trouble, and managed to secure a spot at the table just as the servants brought in the trays of food. Around the table, only five other women sat with their hands folded politely on their laps. Sakura smiled at Rika, who returned the gesture. 

When the serving boys left them with their food, Rika stood up. “Ladies, this is our newest Hittite addition, Sakura.” She gestured to Sakura, her smile kind as ever. The others looked over at Sakura, interest in their eyes. They were all Egyptian. 

Sakura smiled and waved. “Hi.”

The woman next to Sakura held her hand out for her to shake, delicately, which she did. Her hair fell in large brown curls around her slim shoulders, and she wore three gold headbands. “My name is Chiharu,” she said. Her eyes, a brown a few shades darker than her hair, were kind, but excitable. “It’s nice to have you here.”

Sakura nodded, smiling. “Thank you.”

Chiharu pointed over her shoulder at the girl next to her, whose dark hair was cut short. “This is Naoko, and—“ 

Her words were cut off when a man stepped into the room. “Good evening, royal concubines. The Pharaoh has come to visit.”

Immediately the other five women stood, and Sakura followed suit. Cold sweat dewed at the nape of her neck, and she clutched the cloth tied around her wrist for comfort. The Pharaoh. The Pharaoh. That meant a lot of things to Sakura at that moment, and she wasn’t sure which one to focus on. 

But she found herself focusing rather quickly on one fact as the great Pharaoh himself stepped into the room. 

It was the man from the fountain.


	3. Chapter 3

The colour drained instantly from Sakura's face. She couldn't break her gaze from the Pharaoh's. Oh, god. How could this have happened? How could she have found the one person in this whole kingdom who actually mattered and thrown him into a fountain and then yelled at him? She clenched her fists to keep them from shaking. Oh, well. He'd seen what she was really like. No use sacrificing what was left of her dignity to make a pathetic attempt at fawning over him.

"You," he said, breaking the silence in the room that the other obviously couldn't understand.

"Me," Sakura replied with surprising strength of voice, daring herself to keep eye contact. And they were fascinating eyes. He had dried off and ringed them in kohl since their previous . . . encounter. The black lines made his amber eyes seem impossibly bright, somehow omniscient, even beneath his furrowed brow.

They stood there, both rooted to the ground they stood on. Sakura was sure they both wanted nothing more than to box each other over the ears but of course that was impossible. Moreso for her, she supposed; he was the Pharaoh, he could do what he wanted. If he wanted to throw propriety to the wind, then so be it. The thought sent a trickle of fear down her spine.

"You," he said again, "must be our newest concubine." He licked his lips, straightening his spine.

Rika stepped forward, bowing to the Pharaoh. "Yes, my lord. May I present Sakura, from Anatolia."

"A Hittite," the Pharaoh replied, his eyes returning to Sakura. "I might have guessed."

Sakura's mouth set in a stern line at the insult.

Rika looked between them, unsure of the palpable tension. "Will you be honouring us with your presence at our dinner tonight, Your Highness?"

"Indeed," he said slowly, stepping toward the table. "Indeed, I think I will."

Rika smiled. "Excellent, Your Highness."

The Pharaoh sat down, in the chair next to Sakura's. She groaned inwardly and took her seat as well. When everyone was sitting again, he turned to Sakura.

"You've just arrived today, Sakura? How do you like Egypt?" he asked, an edge to his voice.

She took a long drink from her glass before responding. "I've only just arrived today, my lord." She met his gaze and fought the urge to shrug. "So, it's hard to say."

His jaw worked and Rika cast her a shocked glance.

"I see. And what brings you here from Anatolia, Sakura?" he went on. The edge in his voice grew sharper.

It was obvious that he knew only dire situations called for a solution like hers; he was purposely provoking her. Fine. "My father couldn't settle his gambling debts with money. So here I am."

His eyes were stormy. "Indeed."

"Indeed."

He picked up his wine glass. "I hope you find your accommodations suitable. I'm sure they must be, if you've come from Anatolia," he added sharply before she could answer, and then raised the cup to his lips slowly.

Sakura's fingers clenched her napkin in her lap. "Have you ever been to Anatolia? Your Majesty."

He barely moved the glass from his lips. "No, never. And I never want to. It seems rather . . . well, downright barbaric." He laughed, the sound bouncing oddly inside the cup.

Her temples pulsed. "Thank god. There is still sacred land somewhere, then, which hasn't seen your step."

The Pharaoh paused. "What did you just say?"

Oh, god. What was she doing? No. She steeled herself. What did she have to lose, now, anyway? Nothing at all, really. That's right. Just remember that. "I think, my lord, that you heard me." She leaned forward and snatched her glass from the table. His grip tightened around his own cup.

"In fact," Sakura went on, cockiness entering her voice, "I marvel at your calling it barbaric when I can guarantee that our King would never trouble himself with yelling at innocent women."

His gaze was ferocious now. "Do you suppose that I would?"

She cut her eyes at him. "You know I do."

He leaned forward, placing his glass on the table. "Then I presume you suppose yourself innocent."

"Of course I do." Sakura bristled, not shying away from him.

His voice was low, guttural. Dangerous. "And tell me, charming Hittite, what about shoving the Pharaoh into a fountain and further disrespecting him is innocent?"

She felt like baring her teeth and hissing outright. "I believe, sir, that it was your knobby knees which dragged us both into the fountain."

A giggle from beside them tore their attention away from each other. Chiharu now had her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide, her cheeks pink.

"What's funny, Chiharu?" the Pharaoh asked.

"I beg your pardon, Your Majesty," she replied, removing her hand from her mouth but unable to contain her grin.

"Tell me."

Chiharu bit her lip. "Knobby knees, sire." And then she burst out laughing.

The Pharaoh blushed, despite himself, and Sakura feared his reprimand. But none came. He simply leaned back in his chair and took a long drink of wine, letting Chiharu's laughter fill the air.

The rest of the dinner passed in silence, aside from the odd giggle from Chiharu. Sakura didn't look at the Pharaoh again, his remarks about Anatolia still boiling her blood. What an irretrievably insufferable man.

Finally he stood and exited, without a word. Sakura exhaled. Thank god.

"Sakura." Rika was staring sternly at her. "Please, take a turn with me."

Biting her lip, the Hittite obliged, walking out with the other girl.

"Would you be so kind as to tell me what that was all about?" Rika sounded offended. And Sakura supposed she had a right to be; her Pharaoh had just been entirely disrespected right before her eyes, after all.

Sakura sighed. "I'm sorry. Before dinner, I ran into him. Well, I slipped and fell into him, but my cloak caught in his damned necklaces, and when he pulled away –rather violently, I might add – he tripped into the fountain and I fell in after him. Then he just ripped my mother's cloak out of his stupid jewellery and left me to soak in the fountain, yelling at me all the while." She touched the cloth around her wrist, her heart suddenly aching again for the ruined cloak.

Rika looked suddenly exhausted, like the story had drained her of all her energy. "Oh, Sakura."

"I'm sorry," she said again, a smidgen of shame blossoming in her chest. "I didn't know he was the Pharaoh." She crossed her arms, feeling a sudden chill. "Will I be . . . ?"

"No." Rika shook her head. "Oh, I don't know. No. I'm sure you'll be given a chance to redeem yourself."

Sakura rolled her eyes. "I expect he must be forgiven instantly since he's the Pharaoh."

Rika stopped walking and faced her, her expression all exasperation. "Yes, Sakura! Are you a dolt? He is the Pharaoh, and you are his concubine. What did you expect?"

Sakura groaned, and dropped her face into her hands. "I loathe him. I loathe how he talks about my country. My people."

"That seems rather hypocritical," Rika said cuttingly. That tired look was back. "Good night, Sakura."

"Good night, Rika," Sakura murmured. The shame continued to bloom in her chest. Rika was right. Where did she get off? At least Rika seemed certain that Sakura wouldn't be executed immediately.

A small part of her wondered if the Pharaoh felt her shame, too.

Late that night, Sakura still lay awake, staring out her window at the night sky. The Egyptian night sky. It seemed funny, to her, that it looked exactly the same. She could close her eyes and pretend she was back in Anatolia. Or she could keep looking out there.

She heard the Pharaoh walk past her room and enter another down the hall. Sakura wasn't sure whose it was. Luckily that was all she heard. She turned on her side, hugging her pillow. Maybe at least her display would keep him away from her forever. Maybe she'd successfully repulsed him.

A while later, she was finally beginning to drift off into sleep when she heard his footsteps again. Cursed man. Now he'd not let her sleep, either. She waited for them to pass – but they didn't. She frowned, and then there was a knock at her door. Her heart pounded. What? What was happening? Of course there were a few very obvious scenarios but her mind was racing and didn't know which one to settle on. She waited for him to enter, but he didn't. He knocked again.

Mouth dry, Sakura rose and went to the door. She grasped the handle and briefly leaned her forehead against the wood before opening it, putting on her most annoyed face.

There he stood, his face equally annoyed, his arms crossed over his chest, leaning arrogantly against her doorframe. An artfully crafted red and blue belt, trimmed with gold, held his white shendyt in place. His face was bare now, as was his chest, which was also artfully crafted. Sakura noted this begrudgingly. "So this is your room now."

"Indeed it is, Your Highness." She made sure he couldn't miss the sarcasm in her voice, but she cursed herself inwardly. She should be practically grovelling at his feet, begging his forgiveness, to let her stay, or at least stay alive. But something about him, the look in his eyes, sparked something in her, and she couldn't stop her mocking tone. "It's not the best room I've ever been in, but I'm sure it will do."

His eyes bore into hers. "Charming," he said dryly. "You are ever so frightfully charming, as always, Sakura."

"Yes. It's my best and most prominent characteristic."

"I can tell." He rolled his eyes and stood straight. Sakura's heart seemed to miss a beat. Was he going to come into her room now? He clasped his hands behind his back and looked at her expectantly.

She gripped the door harder. "What do you want, an invitation?"

He frowned. "Honestly, do the Hittites even have a word for manners, or do you just grunt and yell at each other until something gets done?"

"Why don't you grunt and yell and see if something happens?" she seethed, waving her hand like an invitational gesture. Why was he so prejudiced? As if he was polite.

"Funny you should say that, as that is what I normally do in these chambers," he said, adorning his face with an absolutely wicked grin.

That struck Sakura dumb. It was all she could do to keep her mouth from falling open.

"Vulgar jokes from a vulgar man," she finally managed to say, her eyes wide and unsure where to look. She was positive she must be irreparably scarlet.

The Pharaoh laughed. "Finally, I've found something with which to render you witless."

Sakura glared at him, embarrassed from her head to her feet. She cursed herself for being so immature. "At least I'm not completely tasteless."

He looked at her, squinting, and said quietly, "I wonder."

She flushed crimson all over again, and again his laughter filled the halls. She felt like she could die on the spot.

"It seems I've found your weak spot, Sakura Kinomoto. Have a good night." The Pharaoh sauntered down the hallway, laughing all the way.

She kept herself from slamming the door shut, although his boisterous laughter had probably woken all her new hallmates up. She groaned to herself and put her face in her hands briefly. What a terribly unbearable man, indeed! She huffed and stomped back into bed, once again wide awake.


	4. Chapter 4

After a few days, Sakura found she had the routine down. It was all very much as Rika had said when she'd first arrived. Breakfast, lunch and dinner, with walking around in between. It was peaceful, but Sakura knew she would be starting to feel stir-crazy any day now. Surely there was something for an Egyptian concubine to do.

The Pharaoh hadn't come to her room, not since that night. She heard him sometimes when he went down the hall to one of the other rooms, but he never stopped at hers, aside from that first night. It was like he was giving her space, time to accommodate. She almost felt grateful to him. But she knew that he was really just the arrogant windbag he'd been when they'd spoken, and each time she had seen him since that night, he'd acted no differently toward her, and she'd acted no differently in response.

The other concubines, who Sakura was slowly warming up to, seemed to absolutely adore him. He seemed like more than the Pharaoh to them. Like a friend, or a part of their little family, which was maybe a little weird. Whenever she caught him talking to one of them alone, she had to admit he looked warmly upon them and never gave them a foul word. While it seemed to speak to his character, Sakura refused to let it, because he never said more than unpleasantries to her, never gave more than an eyeroll.

Now she sat at the fountain where she'd first stumbled into the Pharaoh, perched on its blanched edge, swirling her fingers around in the clear water. She watched the ripples expand and expand until they hit the stone barriers, gently splashing up.

As a royal concubine, she was adorned in the finest clothes and jewels. Every day felt like a game of dress up. In all the years she'd spent as a Lady, she'd never enjoyed such fanciful garments as she did now, or eaten such fine foods, drunk such fine wine. It was almost . . . nice. Like an escape from the encroaching poverty of her father's house. It felt like a betrayal to herself and her country, but Sakura was nearly starting to like her life here.

She stroked the rings on her fingers, rubies glinting in the hot sun, and looked around. She was alone. Not a single other soul occupied the courtyard. While she was beginning to like the other concubines, she found she rarely got to enjoy their company. They all seemed to be somewhere, all the time, except for at dinner and some other points later in the day. Sakura was never invited, and it was never spoken of, but they were all certainly off doing something. Her curiosity gnawed at her, fuelled by her loneliness.

There was not much to be done about that, she supposed. She was a foreigner here, and very new. She couldn't expect to always be included. The Hittite stood and stretched with a sigh. There was the catch in her new life then; loneliness. As she strolled around the deserted courtyard, the sun warming her like a blanket, she thought of her brother, Touya. How she'd loved him. How it had been years since she'd seen him and she feared she was beginning to forget his face. He'd left home to be a soldier, and that was the last she and her father had heard. She willed herself not to think about it. She wasn't in the mood to keep getting upset.

"Miss Sakura."

She turned at the sound of her name spoken by an unfamiliar voice. A man stood a few feet away from her, next to the fountain. He was tall and skinny, looking rather like an obelisk in the blazing sun. His dark hair was long and straight, tied back behind him. He watched her carefully, his face both kind and cryptic, his eyes crinkled with his smile. Nervously, she wrung her hands, aware of how alone she was with this mysterious man.

"How can I help you?" she asked after a few moments, clasping her fingers together so she would stop fidgeting.

He clasped his hands behind his back, his movements deliberate and smooth, his white robes swarming in layers around him. Sakura wondered if he stayed so skinny by always wearing that and constantly sweating profusely beneath it. "My name is Reed. I am the palace priest. I thought I would come and introduce myself, and let you know that you are always welcome at the palace Temple."

Sakura managed a smile and dipped her head. "Ahh . . . thank you. That's very kind." She didn't want to be disrespectful so she didn't bring up the fact that she was Anatolian and didn't follow their religion in the slightest.

Reed smiled and nodded back. A breeze picked up around them, blowing Sakura's hair around her face and her dress around her legs. Reed closed his eyes and seemed to relish the wind, which struck Sakura as sudden and random, and then opened them and tilted his head to the side, staring at her. Or maybe through her would be a better description. He seemed to see all of her, her past, her thoughts, her secrets. It sent a chill through her. And then he just said, "Interesting."

Anxious footsteps echoed around the courtyard, sandals slapping against the gleaming stone. Sakura turned to see the Pharaoh rushing down the hall, sticking his head in the concubine's rooms.

"They're gone," Sakura called out, startling him. His head whipped around to face her, and he straightened. She shrugged. "Don't ask me. But none of them are here." She turned back to Reed, opening her mouth to say something, but he was gone. All right. Weird. Creepy.

She returned her gaze to the Pharaoh. He bit his lip, his eyes a bit far away. Sakura cocked her head, taking him in. For the first time since she'd met him, he was really dressed like a Pharaoh. Thick lines of kohl ringed his eyes, and his hair was completely covered by a Nemes headdress, striped blue and gold, hanging down the back of his neck and around his shoulders. A thick golden necklace hung around his throat, and his shendyt was dressier than usual, with blue and gold trim and an elaborately designed snake belt holding it in place. A lion's tail was also wrapped around his waist, just above his hips. The sun lit him up from the perfect angle, and for a grudging moment, she could see why the Egyptians would think he was a god.

"You're dressed up," she remarked, folding her arms and leaning against one of the stone pillars.

He cast a tired glance at her. "You don't know where Rika is?"

Sakura shook her head.

He raised his hand as if to run it through his hair, and then remembered the Nemes and dropped it. "Chiharu? Naoko? Any of them?"

She raised her hands. "Just me, Your Highness." And that Reed guy, but he was gods knew where now.

The Pharaoh let out a loud groan and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gods help me. I suppose I need you to accompany me, Sakura."

She frowned. "Accompany you where? Nice to know I'm the very last choice."

"A state luncheon. Don't worry, you needn't speak. In fact, please don't," he said, holding his hands up. "Just look pretty and fawn over me. It shouldn't he hard." He smirked.

Sakura rolled her eyes. "Fine. Just know that if I had a choice, I'd pick you last too."

The Pharaoh shook his head and held out his arm for her to take. "No you wouldn't."

She flushed and glared at him as she walked over and took his arm, which made him smile. She felt the hard muscle coiled on his arms and glanced up at him. He was already looking back at her, a corner of his fine lined mouth turned up smugly, his kohl-lined eyes bright. He was beautiful and he knew it, which made Sakura want to smack him.

He brushed her hair back with his hand. "What—" she started to say.

"It's too bad we can't get you done up properly, but for now we'll say we're showcasing your Hittite charms," he said, his eyes flicking over her face.

She gave him a pointed look. "Oh, so they're charms now, are they?"

"Yes. So primitive and adorable."

Sakura huffed and clenched her teeth.

The Pharaoh led her through the palace, down hallways she'd never been through before. The rest of it was just as beautiful as her little concubine's corner. Perfectly cut stone and packed sand, elaborate drawings of the gods, breathtakingly large rooms and corridors.

Finally they arrived at tall doors, carved with images of who she assumed was Osiris. The Pharaoh turned to her. "Remember. Don't speak. No rage-filled outbursts tonight, I beg you."

She batted her lashes at him. "Your wish is my command," she said sweetly.

He groaned and pushed open the door, assuming a dazzling smile as he dragged her in next to him.

It was a large dining hall with many important looking people seated around the long table. They all looked to be wearing poker faces. The Pharaoh led Sakura to the head of the table and they sat.

"My deepest apologies for keeping you all waiting, my friends," he announced. "Let's begin immediately."

Oh great. A political meeting. Sakura forced herself to keep her posture straight and her expression pleasant, though she felt like falling asleep on the spot.

"When is the Daidouji girl expected to arrive?" one man asked.

"Three days from now," another answered.

"Is everything prepared properly? All of her chambers?" the Pharaoh asked, directing the question at a man a few seats away from him. The man nodded. "Excellent. This visit needs to be perfect."

Sakura glanced at him, an eyebrow raised.

The meeting went on like that, seeming to last forever. At first, Sakura was interested, listening in if half-heartedly, but after a while it became very repetitive. These people were all extremely worried about this impending visit from Daidouji. The name rang a bell for Sakura, but she couldn't say from where. Obviously someone very important. It seemed a lot rested on this visit. She hoped she'd get to see this very important person, and wondered if she would be as terrible as the Pharaoh.

Finally they turned to other subjects. Palace events, crop harvests, criminals, taxes, and Sakura tuned in again. Her interest was especially peaked when someone referenced her directly.

"Going with the theme of Anatolians," he said, nodding at her, "a band of them has been spotted repeatedly wandering around our borders."

Sakura frowned.

The Pharaoh glanced at her, and nodded. "Have they been causing any trouble? Are they soldiers, nomads, bandits, what?"

The man shook his head. "Still uncertain, sire. Anatolian rags are always hard to identify. But surely they have some kind of malicious intent, they're Anatolians."

Sakura bristled and leaned forward. "And just what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?"

The man looked at her, surprise written all over his face. "Excuse me?"

"Sakura," the Pharaoh breathed warningly.

But she continued. "You think that they mean some harm just because they're from Anatolia?"

He set his jaw, his mouth curling into a sneer. "Of course."

Sakura's fists clenched. "How many of my people have you taken prisoner just because they're Anatolian?"

"I take prisoner those who are obvious aggressors."

"And Anatolians are automatically aggressors?" Sakura pressed.

"Always," the man snarled, his face twisting with his sneer.

"Have you ever considered," Sakura said, making herself breathe slowly, "that they are aggressive because you never give them a chance to be otherwise?

"Just look at you." He gestured to her. His face was red in anger. She imagined she looked much the same. "Look at how upset you are, like a match lit."

Sakura narrowed her eyes at him disbelievingly. "Thank you for proving my point."

"And what point is that?" He looked smug.

"That my people are only aggressive because you savages insult us from the first," she spat, and threw herself back in her chair, crossing her arms.

"Sakura, you buffoon, I told you not to speak!" the Pharaoh chided, but he was laughing, his hand on his stomach as he shook with the action. "Why can't you just follow orders?"

She studied her nails, feigning boredom. "Guess I'm just too much of a barbarian."

The Pharaoh burst into laughter, and Sakura found herself with a tiny smile. He waved off the others in the room. "Leave the Anatolian group be for now. Meeting dismissed."

Everyone stood and bowed, but Sakura didn't miss the looks she got, especially from the man she'd yelled at.

The Pharaoh stood and offered her his arm, like he had before, and she took it, heaving herself out of her chair. "That was quite a display. I want to be angry, but it was honestly too entertaining. That guy is way too prejudiced."

Sakura gasped and snatched her hand away. The Pharaoh looked confused. "He's prejudiced?" she nearly shouted. She flicked her hand at him. "You're one to talk! You absolute hypocrite! You're even worse than he is!"

He had the decency to flush with colour, recoiling. "Sakura, I—"

She jabbed a finger into his rock-hard chest. "You think you're so superior, Pharaoh, because you're supposed to be some kind of god. Well, you're the same two-faced coward as everyone else in this damn country." Her father's face flashed through her mind, his expression as he informed her that he was selling her off to pay gambling debts. Gambling debts. She threw her hands up. "In this world."

He glanced around, making sure there was no witness to this. "I'm—it's not that—you just—" He straightened, frowning. "You can't yell at me."

Sakura let out a ferocious sound, a mix between a groan and a grunt. "You, Pharaoh, are absolutely infuriating."

He clenched his teeth. "I could say the same about you."

She glared at him, and then stomped away.

"My name isn't Pharaoh," he yelled as she approached the door. She put her hand on the handle. "It's Syaoran."

Her fingers tightened around it. "Whatever," she muttered, and yanked the door open.

She marched through the halls, back to her courtyard, thinking of what she called him. A two-faced coward. That's what he seemed to her. One moment, disrespecting her and her people, the next, presuming to be on her side. And then he had the gall to act hurt and haughty when she got cross about it. She huffed and gave up on her search for the concubine courtyard, throwing herself down in a window seat in the corridor, staring out at the sun.

She sat there for a while, thinking about that Anatolian group. Who were they? Were they people she might have known? Maybe she could find them. She wondered if that horrible man would have them captured anyway.

And then there were footsteps rushing down the hall. She looked up and saw the Pharaoh – Syaoran – running over to her. She set her face in a frown and so did he.

"What is it, Pharaoh?" she asked, purposely not using the name he'd told her.

He pursed his lips, studying her, and then sighed. "I came to apologize," he said quietly.

Her eyebrows shot up. That she hadn't expected.

"Really," he went on, "I am sorry. About everything – about all of it."

Sakura swallowed, searching his face for some kind of mockery, but found none. This really appeared to be an honest apology. She bit her lip, trying to find the right response. She wasn't even sure what she wanted to say now.

But she didn't have to say anything. A guard came barrelling over to them, nearly crashing into Syaoran. His breaths came in heaves, sweat trailing down his face, terror real in his eyes.

"Your Majesty – Your Majesty," he sputtered between breaths.

"Spit it out, man," Syaoran said, putting his hand on the guard's armoured shoulder.

"It's one of the concubines, sire," he said. Syaoran's gaze flicked to Sakura. "One of the concubines has been found dead. Murdered."


	5. Chapter 5

The words hung in the air around them.

One of the concubines is dead.

Murdered.

Syaoran's eyes blazed and his whole body went taut. Sakura stared at him, her stomach dropping, a roar in her ears. Could this really be true? One of them was . . . dead?

"Who," Syaoran croaked. His face suddenly looked gaunt, exhausted, shadows creasing beneath his eyes.

"It's Mako, sire," the guard whispered.

The Pharaoh's eyes fluttered closed, like he was accepting a pain deep inside himself. Sakura said a quiet prayer for the girl. She had been quiet, but never unfriendly. Sakura was truly sad to hear what had happened. But from the look on Syaoran's face, she could see that what she felt measured to nothing in comparison to the ache that was almost visible on his face, in the rigid stance of his body. Caught up in the moment, Sakura reached out and put a comforting hand on his arm. He looked over at her, his eyes meeting hers, and she was struck with the strength of his grief. She couldn't have guessed this from him. How deeply he felt, even for his concubines.

"Where is she?" he asked, turning back to the guard.

The guard's lips pressed into a thin line. "In her chambers, sire."

Syaoran nodded, closing his eyes again. "Let's go."

The time it took for the three of them to get to the concubine's quarters passed in a blur of heat and fear and grief. But finally they arrived, and the other four women were outside Mako's door, their faces twisted and tear-stained. Rika let out a sob when she saw them, and held out her hand. Syaoran took it briefly before passing into the room where Mako was lying on her bed, a sheet laid over her body with stains of red blossoming from beneath it. He signalled for his guards to carry her away, and they did.

"Who could have done this?" Sakura whispered when they all stood outside again. The others all seemed to exchange a glance at once, and no one responded. Sakura's brow furrowed, and she couldn't shake the feeling that they all had a clear idea, and she was completely out of the loop on something.

She heard footsteps behind her, and turned to see Reed standing there, his expression grim. Syaoran excused himself and walked with him out of the courtyard. Sakura's eyes followed him until he rounded a corner and disappeared from her sight.

There was a small ceremony two days later to mark Mako's passing. Not many people showed up. Sakura guessed she had no family and not many people from the palace would have really known her. The four other concubines wept heavily, and Sakura wondered how long they had all been together, weaving their little family together. Her heart went out to them, and a terrible part of her was glad that she hadn't known Mako long enough to know their grief. She tried her best to ignore the unsettling stare Reed fixed her with for the duration of the ceremony.

That night, she overheard Syaoran talking to Rika. She knew she shouldn't eavesdrop, but she just couldn't pull herself away, couldn't stop herself from tilting her ear to the conversation.

"The princess arrives tomorrow. We all have to straighten ourselves out before then," Syaoran was saying in a hushed voice.

"You're allowed to be frightened, Syaoran," Rika replied in her soothing voice. "Someone just died in your palace. And more are sure to follow."

An icy bolt shot down Sakura's spine. Why had Rika said that with such certainty?

"I thought we could stop it." Syaoran's voice was desolate, and Sakura wished she could see them.

"So did I. But now . . . how are we supposed to proceed? With Mako gone, there's only four of us," Rika went on. Sakura frowned, a little offended. Way to forget me, Rika.

"What are you suggesting, Rika?" Syaoran asked, and Sakura could almost hear him narrow his eyes.

There was a pause before the concubine responded. "It isn't coincidence that Sakura arrived here just days before all of this started."

Sakura's lips parted in surprise. Was she blaming this on her?

Rika continued. "She's meant to be a part of this. She's meant to be the fifth."

Another silence, but longer this time. What on earth were they talking about?

Finally Syaoran responded. "She can't possibly be. She's Anatolian. More importantly, she doesn't have the power. She won't even know what it is."

"But, Syaoran, she does. I know she does," Rika pressed.

"Are you sure this isn't just wishful thinking?"

"No." Her voice was firm. "Reed told me himself, earlier today. He senses it in her. It's not like ours. But it's something. She can help, Your Majesty. I know she can. Reed knows she can. You just need to believe in her too."

The Pharaoh let out a long, tired sigh. "We're running out of options, aren't we." It was more a statement than a question. "Running out of time. No, I guess we've already run out if that."

A long, tension filled pause. Sakura held her breath, like she was afraid they would hear her in the crackling air.

"Fine. Recruit her. You're right. There's no other way." There was a shifting sound as Syaoran stood. "If she really does have it, then maybe this really wasn't a coincidence."

"I know it, Your Majesty," Rika said as the Pharaoh's footsteps faded down the hall. "I know it."

What on earth could they have been talking about? Sakura was entirely floored. That was quite possibly the most confusing conversation she'd ever heard, though she blushed at the fact that she'd eavesdropped. Her fingers fiddled with the piece of her mother's cloak tied to her wrist. These Egyptians were certainly up to something unnatural. And they wanted to drag her into it, too. Recruited. Recruited for what? She suspected she wouldn't have to wait long to find out, and went to bed with a heavy feeling in her stomach, like a stone sinking deeper into the sea.

The next morning, Sakura woke easily. She hadn't been able to sleep much, having had some exceptionally odd dreams which she could not recollect, and didn't bother trying to fall back again when her eyes fluttered open and an extremely early morning's sun glared through her window. Despite her lack of sleep, she felt awake and alert as she went about her usual morning routine.

It wasn't long before thoughts of the overheard conversation crept back into her mind, and she busied herself with wondering about this Daidouji woman who was supposed to be arriving today. Sakura suspected she would be a princess of sorts, though from where she couldn't guess. Was Syaoran prepared for her arrival, or had Mako's death thrown it off? Again, she found it hard to believe that a concubine's death should mean that much to him, but with thoughts of that conversation last night, she suspected there was more to these concubines than she knew.

A knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts. Thinking it would be Rika, she opened it with a nervous hand and was surprised to see Syaoran, his chestnut hair ruffled. She bowed quickly. "Your Majesty. Good morning."

"Sakura," he said, and his amber eyes quickly searched her face. "How, uh, how are you?"

She cocked an eyebrow. "I'm fine. How are you?"

He bit his lip and shifted his weight. Sakura crossed her arms. Was this about the recruitment?

"I just can't stop thinking about the apology I failed to make to you the other day," he blurted. "Of course, it got cut off by – by other urgent matters, but I wanted to come and make sure you knew that I didn't blow off my apology. So . . . I'm sorry, for all of those hypocritical things that I said at the meeting. You were right to be cross with me, and I'm sorry you had to be offended."

Sakura just stared at him, his chin held high but his cheeks stained with colour. It was obvious he hated to sacrifice his pride, but that the thought of letting bad feelings go unsaid bothered him even more. She drummed her fingers along her arms. "Apology accepted," she said finally.

He smiled, looking so genuinely relieved that Sakura's eyebrows shot up all over again. "I'm so glad. So today . . . ." His words trailed off as his eyes searched the room. They landed on her mother's cloak, still hanging on the wall where she'd put it all those days ago, the jagged tear stark against the pale wall. "That's what you were wearing, when we fell in the fountain."

She bristled again, feeling the part of the cloak pressing against her wrist. "Yes. It is."

He shook his head. "I'm terribly sorry about that, too. I can have a new one delivered to you."

She shook her head coldly in return. "I'm afraid it doesn't really work like that."

Syaoran frowned. "Why not?"

"It belonged to my mother. She died many years ago," Sakura said, trying not to glare at him. "You can't really replace an object like that."

He looked stricken. "Oh my." His eyes went back to the cloak and he gazed at it sadly.

"Yeah." She put her hand on the door, ready to close it and end their conversation.

"I'm sorry about that too," he said quietly, looking back at her.

She stared at him, and shrugged. "I guess you should think about that the next time you throw a royal tantrum," she nearly spat.

He recoiled a little, and then his face went blank. He just nodded and left her.

She felt a little bad, getting snippy with him when he'd just come to apologize. But the tear in that cloak was still an open wound. It was the only thing of her mother that she had left. Just looking at it again on the wall, she felt like crying. So what if his princely feelings were hurt? He was the one who had viciously torn it apart in the first place. She couldn't let herself forget that animosity she'd seen in him that first day.

Later that day, Sakura joined the other concubines in helping each other get dressed and ready for the banquet being held to receive Daidouji. This would normally have been cause for barely concealed excitement, big smiles, and relishing in their new, beautiful dresses, but Mako's death hung over them like a foggy cloud. They had to stop wearing black early so that they could be properly adorned for the celebration, which they understood but couldn't help resenting. Again Sakura felt like an outsider, seeing these women grieve together so closely, as a family losing one of their own. She knew what it was like to lose family, so she kept to the sidelines to let them have their time to mourn.

She didn't miss the glances Rika kept throwing her way. Really, she tried to avoid them. Mostly she tried to pretend she wasn't noticing, didn't know anything about it, as she didn't want to raise suspicion regarding her eavesdropping escapades.

Finally, they were all ready, deliciously decorated in gold and jewels. Sakura felt the kohl around her eyes like a weight on her face, and the gold beads and bands on her head were an actual weight. She rather felt like she was in a balancing act.

The women all entered the banquet with only guards to escort them. No men hung on their arms, as was usual with noble ladies. They were to be easily identified as the royal concubines. Sakura thought it odd that they should be there at all – who cared about concubines? – but by now she knew not to try and figure out the ways of the Egyptians. Especially when they afforded her a much better life here than she had been expecting.

They were seated in their own compartment, slightly away from the rest of the crowd. It seemed dually like a sign of respect and degradation, but again, Sakura was not complaining. She knew her place.

Soon everyone was seated, a great bustling crowd of nobility, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the girl much more than their food. Whispers about her floated to Sakura's ears, about her rumoured personality, her stunning beauty, her assets. Finally Sakura could stand it no longer.

She leaned in to Rika. "Forgive me for asking, but who, exactly, is this Daidouji woman?"

Rika looked at her, and then back over to the others. "She is the daughter of a grand noble in Upper Egypt. He is so powerful, owns so much of the land, that people speak of him as the second Pharaoh."

Sakura's eyes widened. "Is that not treason?"

Rika nodded. "One would think. But Syaoran has managed to be good leader. No one would see him cast off from the throne. These whispers are not to be taken too seriously. Still, it is a worry. That's why she is coming here. The Pharaoh means to marry her, to join the Daidouji power with his, and end any chance of a usurping."

Sakura's brows rose. It hadn't even crossed her mind that Daidouji would be coming here so Syaoran could woo her, though in hindsight it should have been her first thought. "Do you think it will happen?"

Rika shrugged, an elegant lifting of her pale shoulders, still staring at the crowd but not really seeing them. "Who knows. Only time will tell."

Sakura's eyes were trained on the other girl. So doll-like, with her thick hair curling around her round cheeks, framing her heart-shaped face. Her light eyes always seemed to hold so much more than she let on, some kind of melancholy resting just below the surface.

"Rika," Sakura whispered, almost inaudibly, but Rika still heard. "Are you in love with him?"

Though Sakura would have taken it as a shocking question, Rika just turned her face to Sakura with that knowing look, that knowing smile, those thinly veiled sad eyes. "No," she said quietly. "No, Sakura, I am not in love with him. Though love him I do."

Sakura sat back, her head buzzing with more questions now than answers. The way she said it was so mysterious, Sakura knew there must be something else to this story. But she wouldn't bother Rika with it anymore.

A sudden blast of fanfare caught her attention instead, and the Pharaoh strutted into the room, looking as kingly as he ever had, his gold and blue headdress glinting and his menagerie of jewellery clinking as he walked. He bowed to his people before taking his seat. Sakura didn't realize she was staring until he noticed her, and locked eyes with her. She bit down on her lip, a wave of embarrassment coming over her, and kept her face blank, remembering their encounter that morning. Syaoran just nodded at her, but Sakura thought she might have seen a slight smile curve his lips.

"Sakura."

Rika's voice drew her back to their table. The other concubine was looking at her in earnest, and Sakura had a feeling she knew why. "Yes?"

"May I speak with you later, after the festivities?" she asked, her fingers clenching.

Sakura swallowed. "Of course." She hesitated, then ventured, "What for?"

Rika only kept looking at her. "You'll see."

Sweat dewed at the nape of Sakura's neck, but she nodded and smiled. "All right then."

Rika nodded too, and then sat back, training her eyes back on the banquet.

And then there was more fanfare, with a different sound this time, and everyone eagerly shifted in their seats, looking toward the large doors. Sakura found her heart was pounding, though she wasn't exactly sure why. The music continued as the doors opened, and a woman stepped in, on the arm of an older looking man.

The whole crowd seemed to hold its breath. The woman was absolutely beautiful. Her dark hair billowed in strong curls and waves around her, a stark contrast to her impossibly porcelain skin. She walked with a natural grace, a lightness that seemed to make her float. Her eyes, which Sakura could see were a piercing amethyst, sharply took in everything around her. She looked rather like a ghost, she was so hauntingly beautiful, so stunning she could only be ethereal.

"My god," Sakura breathed.

Naoko, on Sakura's other side, smiled at her. "She's almost too beautiful to be real, isn't she?"

Sakura nodded quickly to agree. She even felt foolish for how entranced she was but couldn't help it. Daidouji was simply a vision.

At the table, the Pharaoh smiled and stood. He held his arms out to her and she put her hands in his as she approached. She tilted her chin up and accepted a kiss on her cheek from him.

"Welcome, Lady Tomoyo," Syaoran said.

"My Lord." Tomoyo dipped into a bow. "Thank you for having me."

"I think my court would agree that it is our pleasure," he said with a wink.

Tomoyo smiled and bowed again, taking her seat near him at the table.

Syaoran clapped his hands. "Our guest of honour has arrived. Let the feast begin!"

The doors opened again and the kitchen staff entered with platters of food. Jovial music started up and gradually people fell into chatter.

As their food was being laid out for them, Naoko let out a low whistle. "They make quite a couple, don't they? Like they were born and bred for each other." Her eyes were still fixed eagerly on the Pharaoh and his guest.

Sakura laughed. "Just because they look good together?"

Naoko nodded eagerly, a wicked grin on her lips. "These days, it doesn't get much better than rich and beautiful, does it?"

That struck Sakura as quite sad, but she laughed again. She picked up her freshly filled wine goblet. "To our budding beautiful royal couple!"

"Isis bless them!" Naoko cheered, clinking her glass against Sakura's, and they drank.

The feast lasted several hours, and the night was dark when it finally concluded. The court watched as Syaoran led Tomoyo out of the dining hall, whispering things not unlike Sakura and Naoko's toast from earlier.

The concubines watched the nobles leave next, and then the guards escorted them back to their chambers. Sakura was glad to see the festivities seemed to have lifted the other women's spirits, all of them smiling and a little flushed from the wine.

As she made to enter her room, Rika caught her elbow. "Sakura. A word, please."

She turned around. "Oh, right." She bit her lip, sober again at the prospect of whatever Rika planned to ask her.

"Sakura . . . please, follow me." Rika released Sakura's arm and started down the hall. Sakura followed apprehensively. "I will warn you, Sakura, that this is going to come as something of a shock."

A trickle of fear raced down Sakura's spine. She lifted her head and spotted Reed standing at the end of the hall, with that same smile and fixed stare he always had. What was he doing here now?

But Rika walked right up to him and stood next to him. They both faced Sakura, with such knowing expressions that she thought they looked like parents gazing upon a child. She swallowed. "Well . . . what is it?"

Reed pointed a long, ringed finger at the fountain pool in the open courtyard. "Please," he said in that soft but commanding voice, "step into the pool."

"Step . . . into the pool?" Sakura echoed nervously, her eyes flicking from Rika to Reed and to the gleaming still water.

Reed nodded.

Rika stepped forward, offering her hand to Sakura. "Please. It's very important. It won't take a moment."

Heart pounding, Sakura raised a timid hand to clasp Rika's outstretched one. Rika led her down the four wide, flat steps from the corridor to the courtyard. The fountain pool was gleaming in the light of the stars and the moon. Standing before it, Sakura hesitated, and then after kicking off her sandals, climbed rather ungracefully into the water, sending ripples to the edges of the limestone. She balanced and stood up straight, looking to Rika for guidance. Rika's eyes were closed, her head tipped up to the sky. She opened them again and smiled at Sakura, who smiled uneasily back. This was getting a bit weird.

The water was cool around her ankles, soaking into her gown and making it stick to her skin. It felt nice, a balance to the sweat clinging to her back and neck. Inspired, she also tipped her head back, the moon shining almost like the sun against her closed eyelids.

She thought she heard Rika whispering something, so she quickly opened her eyes again. Rika's lips weren't moving, but the water around her was. It was blinding to look at now, like it had forgotten to reflect the sky and only let the stars shine onto it, and it swirled around her legs like a storm had struck it suddenly. Sakura felt her gown blowing and her hair lift in a breeze that felt somehow similar to whatever was happening to the water in the fountain. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest. What was going on?

Rika and Reed only looked excited at what was happening. Was this what they'd planned? What Syaoran and Rika had been discussing the other day?

It was then that she noticed Syaoran, standing in the corridor and watching. His expression was very serious and his eyes were fixed intensely on her.

And then something else strange happened; desperately, Sakura muttered, "Clow help me."

The wind died down. The water became still again, and returned to being a mirror for the real sky.

Sakura's fingers flew to her lips. What had she said? Clow? The words had just slipped out of her mouth in a little prayer without her even thinking about it.

But . . . she'd never heard that word before in her life.

"Sakura!"

She looked up, distraught, and saw Rika jogging over to her, a smile on her face and tears in her eyes. She stood at the edge of the pool and clasped Sakura's hands.

"It really is true," she whispered fervently, the tears spilling over onto her cheeks in her enthusiasm. "You're our fifth."

Sakura shifted her weight, her mind racing. "What the hell is going on?" she whispered.

Rika squeezed her fingers and leaned in closer. "You are a fellow Keeper of the Clow."

+

Thanks so much for the kudos and comments. :) Please comment and tell me what you think of the chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

Sakura sat with her fingers clenched around a steaming cup of tea, staring into the contents. The Pharaoh and all of his concubines sat around her, watching her intently. Reed stood off to the side, schooling his expression.

"What was all that?" she whispered. "What was all that?"

"The Clow," Syaoran said, leaning forward a bit. "It's a kind of – well . . . it's a kind of magic."

Sakura looked up sharply at him, and he sat back again. "Only the gods deal in magic," she snarled.

"Sakura," said Rika warningly, nodding to Syaoran.

Ah, right. She'd forgotten. The Egyptians viewed their Pharaoh as a god incarnate. He spread his arms like that explained it.

Sakura shook her head. "I'm Anatolian. Why am I a part of this? This – this insane –" She pressed her lips into a scowl, unable to think of any words to describe this foul encounter.

"Fate chose you," Rika pressed. "You have the power in you."

Sakura dropped her head into her hands. For once, she thought she would actually have preferred to be a real concubine.

"You can't deny what you experienced out there," came Syaoran's voice, softly. "We all saw it."

That was true. She'd felt all of it, every part. The wind, the water, the sky.

"Khonsu guides us," Rika said. "As Ra guides the Pharaoh."

Sakura pressed her fingers against her eyes so that popping circles of red flashed behind her eyelids. Ra was the sun god, everyone knew that. She had to think for a moment about Khonsu, but remembered that he was the god of the moon.

"So if you're all priestesses," Sakura murmured, "then why are you masquerading as concubines?"

"Not priestesses," Chiharu corrected. "Keepers of the Clow."

Sakura clenched her teeth.

"Okay, fine. But that doesn't answer my question," Sakura nearly growled.

"Sakura, we have a very important mission in the palace," Rika said seriously, "that affects all of Egypt. But no one must know what we really are or what we're really doing."

Sakura nodded and waited for her to go on, but she didn't.

"Well?" she prodded. "What is this mission?"

Rika and Syaoran exchanged a look.

"We can't tell you yet," Rika said gently, biting her lip.

Sakura's mouth fell open in disbelief.

"We must know we can absolutely trust you before we can tell you everything," Rika hurried on.

"So after all this you still don't trust me," Sakura snarled. She stood up. "I'm still the outsider Anatolian, even after I just proved whatever it is you wanted me to prove to you." To her horror, she felt tears pricking her eyes. She trained her gaze on the door and set towards it.

"Sakura, wait!" she heard Rika calling after her, but she didn't stop.

The outside air, though still warm, felt cool on her skin after the suffocating atmosphere in Rika's room. She breathed in huge lungfuls of it, taking long and purposeful steps to she didn't know where, as long as it was away from all of them and their crazy scheme and their prejudice.

She crossed from the concubine's quarters to another part of the palace and kept walking. Finally the tears that had been threatening to spill over did, sliding hotly down her face. She wished she was still at home, in Anatolia. She wished Touya had never left. She wished her dad wasn't a good for nothing gambler. She wished her mom was still alive. And on top of it all, she couldn't believe how childish and ridiculous she was being.

She wandered around the huge, unfamiliar corridors until she was hopelessly lost and tired and her tears had dried to sticky tracks on her face, and she found a bench set into a window and sat down on it. It was the middle of the night, but it didn't seem dark at all. The moonlight spilling in through the huge windows lit the place as brightly as the sun. Sakura's gaze fell onto the shining moon, thinking about what the others had told her. Khonsu . . . she could swear she felt something tugging in her chest as she stared, unblinking, into the sky, at all the stars winking in the velvety darkness.

A footstep fell in the corridor. Sakura turned to see a guard, dressed in full armour that she didn't recognize. His neat hair was pale, but his face was covered by a partial Anubis mask. She could just barely see his eyes through it, unusually bright, but they seemed to be trained on her.

Sakura clambered to her feet. "I'm sorry, I'm probably not supposed to be here. I just . . . went on a walk and got lost. I'm one of the Pharaoh's concubines."

The guard stopped at that. His grip on his spear tightened. He shifted his weight, and then nodded. Sakura eyed him; why wasn't he speaking? Was he not allowed? He seemed to be stuck, hesitating between taking a step forward and backing away, but in the end he went with the latter, slinking away back to his post in front of a grand door.

Taking that as her cue to leave, she hurried away, back the way she'd come. She could feel the guard's gaze on her back, and wondered who or what he was guarding.

As she fled from the corridor to a small courtyard in the open air, she collided with someone else. She yelped, feeling her sandals slipping as she lost her balance, but a hand slid around her waist and steadied her before she could fall. Catching her breath, she looked up to see Syaoran, smiling ruefully down at her.

She gasped his name, and then remembered her anger and struggled out of his grip. He sighed and let her go, but left his hand hovering around the small of her back. She felt it there like static was shooting between them, nudging them to close the gap, and she didn't know what to take from that.

She crossed her arms and looked away from him. "What is it?"

He pressed his lips into a line before he spoke. "I'm sorry," he exhaled, with that same tone of defeat as before. "I think I've hardly apologized to one person so much in my life, but I'm sorry, and I'm sorry I keep doing things to you that need to be apologized for."

Sakura's face reddened but she kept her gaze averted.

"Funny that we collided so violently again," he continued when she made no move to reply. A rough breeze blew by, ruffling his already messy hair. "Just like we did that first time we met."

"Oh, yes," Sakura retorted, rolling her eyes. "What a wonderful memory."

The Pharaoh was silent for a long moment before replying. "I . . . I wasn't myself that day, Sakura," he said quietly. "I know I was vicious, I was just terrible to you. It was wrong."

Sakura narrowed her eyes, but glanced over at him. She couldn't deny that he seemed sincere.

He caught her eye and smiled again. "As Pharaoh, I'm used to good things happening to me." For a moment, his arrogant tone was back, but it quickly slipped away again. "But that day . . . it really tore the rug out from under me."

This was the side of him she'd caught a glimpse of when Mako died. It intrigued her, made her wonder what he was really like. She turned to face him.

"What happened?" she whispered, her expression softening.

Syaoran swallowed, looking into her eyes. "I can't . . . tell you."

Just like that, her temper flared again. She stepped away from him wildly. "More lies! More secrets! Why am I supposed to trust all of you when none of you will place any faith in me?!" she yelled, feeling doubly stung at being rejected right after what seemed to her like a tender moment. Stupid.

"Sakura, you don't understand, I can't tell you everything –" Syaoran tried to begin.

"Why not?" Sakura hissed, still backing up. "Because I'm such a filthy Anatolian?"

"Sakura, no –"

"You are so –"

The ground disappeared suddenly as it gave way to steps, and again she lost her footing and her balance. The wind whistled loudly in her ears for a moment before, again, Syaoran's arms were around her, setting her right on her feet again.

"Stop doing that," he said, but he didn't look in the least annoyed.

"What's that face for?" Sakura snapped, knowing from the heat in her face that she must be red again.

"I have a feeling you'll fall again if you try to leave," he said, looking a bit amused.

She ground her teeth together. "Is that a threat, Your Majesty?"

Syaoran sighed and shook his head. "I think it's Khonsu's way of bringing us back to the start. How we met. So we can start over again."

She eyed him suspiciously.

He pursed his lips, finally looking irritated. It almost made Sakura laugh, how that expression seemed so much more familiar to her. "It's obviously not to your best liking, but he deems it necessary now that we know you're a Keeper."

In the tension of the moment, she really did let out a laugh.

He frowned. "What?"

"I'm a keeper," she muttered, grinning but already feeling foolish. "Said so yourself."

Catching on, he groaned loudly, looking to the sky like he was asking for help. But his mouth twitched and he looked back at her. "You're impossible."

Studying him, that half-irritated, half-endeared look on his handsome face, the confident and elegant way he held himself, his hopelessly dishevelled hair, she felt something warm in her chest again. She barely realized she was smiling, a genuine smile, until she noticed he was smiling back.

"Okay," she said softly. "We'll start over."

He stepped closer to her, and that static feeling was between them again. Sakura felt it running down the length of her body. She swallowed, looking up into his face. Absently she wondered if he could feel it, too.

"Thank you," he murmured, his eyes blazing with determination, with passion, and her heart gave a sudden hard jolt.

Several seconds passed in silence, the two of them apparently just stuck there.

"So when will you trust me?" Sakura asked, her voice hushed like she feared waking the peaceful silence around them.

Syaoran considered her, his jaw working as he thought. "When you trust me."

It was a challenge, and a promise, and this time Sakura understood. She nodded.

"Can I know something?" she continued.

"Maybe."

Her voice was even quieter this time. "Who killed Mako?"

A shadow passed over the Pharaoh's face. "They are the reason you can't know everything yet."

"You think I'll kill someone?" she squeaked, appalled.

He shook his head gravely, and his eyes met hers. Suddenly she understood, with a shooting chill down her spine.

Someone might kill her.

"This is . . . really serious business, then, huh," she said weakly, feeling her knees give a little wobble.

He smiled tiredly, shaking his head. "It is."

"As in . . . fate of the kingdom rests on it, serious?" she inquired, her legs quaking again.

He pressed his lips together, a taut white line against his tan skin, and nodded.

Sakura's mouth felt dry. "I think Khonsu might be looking to push me over again."

Syaoran chuckled, and to her surprise, stepped closer to her and put his hand around her waist, pressing into the small of her back again. "I'll take you back to your room. Something tells me you don't know how to get there."

She pursed her lips. "Something might be right," she admitted begrudgingly.

And she let him lead her back to her room, his hand resting on her back, feeling utterly different about everything than she had just a few hours ago, and wondering why his fingers fit so perfectly against her.


End file.
